


In Consequence

by msermesth



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Conference Table Sex, Hopeful Ending, Impact Play, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Rimming, Spanking, Tony Shows His Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-02-01 01:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12693924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msermesth/pseuds/msermesth
Summary: “I guess I was just expecting something more in the way of consequences," Steve says.“Consequences? Steve, if you were expecting someone to bend Captain America over and give him a spanking, you’re going to be disappointed."Tony says it offhandedly, like it’s a joke, and then he’s already rearranging things in his briefcase, so he doesn’t notice that Steve goes stone-still because suddenly Steve can’t help but be hyper-aware of everything around him. Steve waits silently and watches as Tony’s face goes from confused to worried to surprised to excited when he sees the awkward way Steve is shifting in his chair. “Actually, you might not have to be disappointed, after all.”





	In Consequence

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> 1\. So this fic is entirely inspired by that scene in CA:CW. You know, _that_ scene. 
> 
> Wait. Maybe you don’t. It’s this one-
> 
> **Tony:** _(Over the Phone.)_ Consequences? You bet there'll be consequences. Obviously you can quote me on that because I just said it. Anything else? Thank you, sir.  
>  **Steve:** 'Consequences'?  
>  **Tony:** Secretary Ross wants you both prosecuted. Had to give him something.  
>  _Steve looks at Tony with longing in his eyes._
> 
> Soooooo, I might be exaggerating that last part, but you get the drift. I’ve certainly done more with less.
> 
> 2\. This is technically a sequel to [Won’t Stop to Surrender](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11719662/chapters/26398401), set about six months after that, but you absolutely do not have to have read that for this to make sense. I think the status quo is pretty apparent off the bat. Just know that if you want 20,000 words of backstory after reading this, I got you covered.
> 
> 3\. A little warning, in case you think a post-Civil War story in which Steve gets spanked that is also called ‘In Consequence’ will be about punishing him, you should know that this story doesn’t do that. It’s actually kinda sweet. (However, if you know of fics like that, please send me recs.)
> 
> 4\. This has been translated in Russian by Marina! You can read it [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6200855).
> 
> 5\. Thanks to [Robin tCJ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ) for the beta, and for being super fast on top of that.

 

“I didn’t think you’d be able to make it,” Steve hears and looks behind him to see Tony leaning against the conference room doorway. He seems tired and worn and Steve wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he had just flown halfway across the world.

“I almost didn’t. I had some trouble in Quebec.” But Steve doesn’t elaborate. He’s here, in the compound, and that’s what matters.

Tony pushes himself from the doorway with his hip and comes to sit next to Steve at the conference table. “I’m glad you could. Makes this a lot easier.” When he places a briefcase on the table and clicks it open, Steve understands what Tony means. It’s the Accords, not Steve, he’s concerned with. Out comes a thick stack of papers, held together only with binder clips, and Steve knows exactly what has Tony looking so tired. “Turns out Secretary Ross has some enemies within the party, and some of those enemies work in the White House. Who would have known nobody likes that asshole?” Tony says it sarcastically and that makes it easier for Steve to suppress saying ‘I knew’ out loud. That isn’t what this is about.

Steve had promised to at least _listen_ if Tony could put together a better deal, and from all Steve could see, Tony had done better than that. Despite all the practical difficulties they had with communicating, they had managed to discuss what they wished the Accords were about and he knew Tony had taken every one of Steve’s words and figured out how to incorporate it.

“Is that where you were tonight? The White House?” Steve asks, remembering the time he had dinner with the president after he woke up from the ice. Steve had felt so awkward, yet when he superimposes Tony on his memory, he knows that Tony would have been entirely comfortable. It’s just one of Tony’s special talents.

“The president was this morning. No, tonight I was helping Pepper with acquiring this start-up we’ve been eying,” Tony says, and Steve hopes he has plans to sleep after Steve leaves. He needs it.

“How soon do you need my response?” he says, and they know he means the stack of papers on the table that he’s currently eying like they could bite him.

“Take as much time as you need. We’ll have to do some negotiating with the UN on our end, but the President is of the opinion that he wants you guys back in the field the day before the next alien invasion, but not a minute _before that_.” Tony smiles a little. “These new Accords aren’t perfect, but I’m kinda proud of them, anyway. I think you’ll like them.”

Steve nods. He isn’t going to promise anything, but he’s thankful. “And it would be that easy?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“The UN votes on this, and I sign whatever the Accords requires me to sign, and that’s it?” Steve purses his lips. “I guess I was just expecting something more in the way of consequences.”

“Consequences? Steve, if you were expecting someone to bend Captain America over and give him a spanking, you’re going to be disappointed.”

Tony says it offhandedly, like it’s a joke, and then he’s already rearranging things in his briefcase, so he doesn’t notice that Steve goes stone-still because suddenly Steve can’t help but be hyper-aware of everything around him. The way the air conditioning is just a little too cold, and how the varnish of the conference table reflects the light coming in from the window, and a million other things he’s never before observed about this room. He’s trying extra hard not to look at Tony, but somehow, he sees him even more clearly in his peripheral vision than he would if he were staring straight at him.

It feels like hours pass as Steve tries to will away his growing erection and slow his breathing, but it must have only been a minute till Tony notices Steve has gone quiet. “You okay there?”

Steve shakes his head in way he hopes looks somewhat close to normal. “Yes,” he says, and it comes out as a croak.

“Was it something I said?” Tony asks, and he looks concerned.

_Yes, it was,_ Steve wants to say. “No, it’s nothing,” is what he says, instead.

Tony doesn’t buy it, of course. They have too much history for Steve to get away with something like this. So, Steve waits silently and watches as Tony’s face goes from confused to worried to surprised to excited when he sees the awkward way Steve is shifting in his chair. “Actually, you might not have to be disappointed, after all.”

“Tony-” Steve whines because he knows that tone of voice. Tony _knows_ and the idea that this man can figure out all of his secrets never fails to scare him. The embarrassment makes him open his mouth and lie, “this isn’t what you think it is.”

But Tony isn’t having any of it. “Take your pants off,” he commands, and it makes Steve’s breath hitch. He reluctantly stands up but doesn’t begin to comply. Reluctant, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he’s not sure he should admit to wanting to. Not when things between them barely make sense anymore.

It isn’t as if Tony doesn’t know some of his deeper secrets. Back before everything went to hell, Tony had figured out everything about him. But the few times they had been together since they had begun to work things out after Siberia had been so rushed that there hadn’t been a chance to do more than just fuck as fast as possible.

And then there’s the fact that every time they’ve been able to be together they’ve also been trying to avoid detection, and Steve, well… He has problems with the idea of getting caught. His body (or more, specifically, his cock) doesn’t want to work under that sort of pressure and it makes things difficult when one has been on the run for almost two years.

Maybe he’s responding this way because he still thinks of the compound as his home, though that doesn’t put him completely at ease. But just like everything else, Tony knows. He motions to his watch, making sure Steve sees it. “This entire wing is on lockdown,” he says. “No one, not even Vision, can get in here right now. And I’ll know immediately if someone gets within a two-mile radius of the compound.”

“I got in,” Steve says, trying to find a flaw in Tony’s plan.

“Because I let you,” Tony responds and there’s a softness in the way he says it that makes the statement feel so much bigger.

Steve smiles at that and finally feels comfortable as he toes off his shoes and socks and begins to unbutton his pants. Tony watches and it’s clear he’s trying affect some form of ‘cool indifference’ and not particularly succeeding.

“Those, too,” Tony gestures to Steve’s boxers. Steve sighs, more fond than annoyed, and does what Tony wants.

“Happy?”

“That doesn’t begin to cover it. You remember the old safe words?” Tony pauses to let Steve nod that he does. And then with more joy than conviction, says “Okay. Bend over the table.”

Steve’s heart skips a beat. They aren’t role playing or anything—Tony isn’t pretending to be anything other than himself. He seems eager but unsure, as if he thinks he’s only moments away from saying something that would cross the line. Oddly, Steve’s always liked that about Tony. Not the subtle and hidden lack of self-esteem, but the comfort Tony must feel to share that with him.

The sex is sex, but it’s _this_ that makes it feel intimate.

It’s _this_ that makes Steve walk to the front of the table, place his hands on the cold wood, and bend over.

Tony leans against the table, clearly admiring the view before him while he takes off his suit jacket, delicately rolls up his sleeves, and loosens his tie. Watching the motion makes Steve want to kiss him right at that point his neck fuses to the rest of his body. Tony then makes an arc around the room and stands behind him and Steve tries to forget about the embarrassment that’s making his face flush. “No, not like that. Elbows on the table.” Steve is confused until he follows through. Once his forearms are resting on the wood, he understands why Tony commanded it—his ass is higher in the air. He feels like he’s putting on a show. “Good.”

They are silent for a long while until Steve can’t handle it anymore. “What are you waiting for?” He turns his head to look at Tony, and well, Tony’s eyes are blown, and he seems unsteady on his feet. For a moment Steve is sure he’s drunk.

“Just let me soak it in. This may be the sexiest thing that happens to me all week.”

“ _Might be?_ ” Steve says, over exaggerating the actual offense he feels.

“It’s only Monday. And anything could happen… I guess.” Tony pauses, and he sounds almost sad. “Not that anything _has_ happened in the last few months. But it could. If I wanted it to.”

Steve softly smiles, mostly to himself, because he knows Tony is trying to deflect because of the uncertainty of their situation, not threaten him with sleeping with anyone else. And Tony’s right—there aren’t any hard and fast rules about what they’re doing. Even if he could, Steve’s not going to ask to make it ‘official’. He almost wishes Tony _would_ sleep with other people. Mostly he just wants Tony to be happy, and there wasn’t much happiness in rushed encounters and coded messages. “Sooooo… Are you going to start anytime soon?” Steve asks, both because the nerves are setting in again and because it will give both of them the opportunity to avoid the conversation they’re on the verge of having.

Tony shakes his head and his higher-level thinking must return because he says, like it’s a joke, “The anticipation is half the fun, buttercup.”

“It is zero percent of the fun,” Steve protests. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to make me beg.”

“You know, that was not my original intention, but now that you say it—”

“For god’s sake, Tony. You have five seconds to come over and spank me as hard as you can.” His body feels lit up, like every nerve ending is on high alert.

“You’re terrible at this, you know that?” Tony says, but his voice is happy, almost intoxicated, and it sounds he’s repressing hysterical laughter. “If the Avengers ever need someone to get on their hands and knees and plead for the fate of the world, I _will not_ nominate you.” Despite all his snark, Tony must have decided he was going to give Steve what he wants, because Steve hears footsteps behind him. “You ready?”

“I was ready ten minutes ago,” is all Steve can get out before Tony slaps him hard, open handed, on the meat of his ass. Steve’s body ricochets forward and his cock jumps from where it is between his stomach and the table. The pain radiates from the impact point all along his thighs and up his spine.

It’s everything Steve never knew he needed.

“You okay?” Tony asks, and the concern is evident all over his voice.

“So very much okay… Wow. Again?” he asks because he’s not sure how to verbalize much else. It’s strange that something like a simple slap could render him incoherent.

Tony doesn’t give him a chance to prepare for the next one. After one, two, three, four, five hits, he pauses again and Steve _moans_ at the loss of contact. Steve’s no stranger to pain, but this isn’t like any pain he’s ever experienced before. It’s like pleasure, sharpened and heated until it’s not like that at all, but something altogether different.

“That good?” Tony sounds out of breath and Steve realizes he’s panting.

Steve nods so fast it makes him dizzy. “Harder,” he grunts because its more specific than ‘more’.

Tony doesn’t have a smart response to that. He just complies with as much force as he can. Steve loses count of how many times he feels Tony’s hand and at some point, it doesn’t matter—the pain just blurs into some hazy form of hard sensation. At first, he’d moaned with every contact, but now that’s blurring, too, until the only thing coming out of his mouth is a prolonged groan.

At some point, Steve is somewhat aware that Tony’s changed hands, and then that the slaps are getting weaker. It doesn’t matter much—at this point his skin is so sensitive that every hit makes him tremble. Eventually it slows down so that Steve can hear Tony’s heavy breaths behind him and he realizes that his hand must hurt. Without turning around, he motions for Tony to stop and luxuriates in the way the cool air-conditioning is breathing against his abused ass.

“Enough?” Tony asks, and Steve reaches back to find his wrist, so he can bring it and Tony closer.

“For now, at least.” He uses the newfound closeness to bring Tony’s hand up to his lips and kiss it lightly. When Tony flinches from the contact, he knows they probably went too long. In truth, he could probably stand another twenty minutes of spanking, but Tony has his limits. That’s ok. Steve has no interest in pushing those further tonight.

“What’s the verdict?” Tony asks from where he’s resting against Steve’s back. “Four out of five stars, or four and a half?”

“Ten out of five,” Steve responds, still dreamy and loose from it. He rubs his ass against where it’s pressed against Tony’s body and savors how sore it feels. “Though I’m a little concerned how I’m going to spend eleven hours on my bike after this.”

Steve can’t see, but he knows Tony is smirking. It’s an easy guess. “Oh, poor thing,” and he punctuates that by grabbing a handful of Steve’s left butt cheek and gripping so tight that his short nails press into the skin. The pain-slash-pleasure makes Steve’s eyes cross and his breath hitch. He desperately wants something to grab onto, something to tighten his hand around. “Does it hurt? Need someone to kiss it and make it better?” Tony teases.

Once Tony stops gripping him and Steve gets his breath back, he lifts himself up so that only his hands are resting on the table. Like this, Steve’s almost level with Tony and can turn his head so that he can find his mouth. It almost feels like they are going to kiss, and Steve realizes it would be the first time they have done so tonight. But Tony doesn’t seem to be that concerned about this fact because he just disentangles his hand from Steve’s and slowly trails his fingers down over the front of Steve’s shirt until they reach his cock. He doesn’t do more the lightly grip it at the base—it’s more like he’s confirming that Steve’s (painfully, blissfully) hard than anything else, and after a few light touches, he pulls away, shakes his head, tugs off Steve’s shirt and pushes him down so that he’s back in his original position.

There’s a moment where Steve’s evaluating the considerable number of possible things he can expect from Tony, but he’s still surprised when he feels Tony grip his hips and use them to steady himself as he kneels. “You have such a nice ass,” Tony says into the small of his back. Steve gasps when he feels the light pressure of Tony’s lips on his left cheek, right in the same spot he was gripping before. Tony follows it up with a few more as he makes a light arc up and along Steve’s lower back before reaching the right ass cheek.

Steve loses himself in the light movement, or he does till Tony bites him right in the meat of his ass and every nerve lights up again. “Oh, fuck!” he shouts and pounds his fist onto the table. Tony’s giggling, euphorically, behind him and he repeats the action, this time hard enough that Steve is sure it’s going to leave a mark.

“You like that?” Tony murmurs into his skin and the vibrations of his words feel sharper than Steve’s supposed they would under other circumstances. Steve sighs at the ridiculousness of the situation and holds himself off from saying _again_ , because he wasn’t lying when he said he had to spend half of tomorrow on the road. “Oh, I know what you need,” Tony says, and Steve should probably tell him he’s done enough already, but he also knows ‘enough’ would never do for Tony Stark and Steve’s brain is not operating at the level needed for an argument.

So, Steve waits for whatever Tony has in mind, and at first he doesn’t feel it at all. So much of his ass is throbbing that the cool, light pressure on his asshole barely registers. He blames how cloudy his mind is for the span of time he doesn’t know, but when it hits him that Tony’s tongue is currently circling his rim, Steve _moans_ and drops his head on the table.

“Oh, god, Tony,” he blabbers. It’s a subtle feeling, but it makes him shiver. He has to slow down his breathing and just focus on every movement of Tony’s tongue, such as the way it dips in, just enough, to make him shudder. It’s such a different sensation that the contrast with the sore heat radiating all around him feels that much more overwhelming.

The feeling stops, and all Steve is left with is the sensation of Tony’s saliva cooling. _This is a special type of hell_ , he thinks as he’s left there waiting to find out what happens next.

The feeling of being hyper-aware of everything around him returns and Steve feels exposed.

Except this time, he understands what Tony was trying to tell him about anticipation.

Eventually Steve reaches the end of his minimal amount of patience and twists his head to see Tony standing up  and rubbing his knees. “You okay?” he asks as he feels a pang of sympathy.

“That’s my line,” Tony responds, almost offended, and he stands up straight. “Just not as young as I think I am.”

Steve starts to twist his body to face Tony. “Tony—”

Tony cuts him off. “Nope. Face front, soldier.” Steve exaggeratedly rolls his eyes but returns to his position and listens as Tony’s voice gets closer. “I’m old, not dead. And I’ve got plans for you.” Then Tony’s right behind him, his breath ghosting on Steve’s shoulder and his hand rubbing up and down his right flank. “Don’t quit on me, yet,” Tony says, no, he _asks,_ and Steve shakes his head.

“Wouldn’t even think of it,” Steve responds and tries not think too much. It helps that Tony’s hand is reaching low again. Steve flinches when his fingers reach glide against his butt, and then he lets out a gasp when Tony rubs the skin around his rim, still wet with saliva. He shallowly pushes one digit in and the feeling of the cold spit makes Steve shiver. It’s like Tony’s pushing the breath out of him as his uses the minimum amount of slick to explore further. This isn’t even prep, just Tony slowly extending what they were doing before. “Tony…” Steve moans when he feels his finger move forward. Steve shifts his weight onto his elbows so he can push into it.

“What’s that?” Tony asks, and he must be feigning ignorance because how could he not know?

“Tony, please,” Steve tries again and feels, more than hears, Tony laugh behind him. His body is getting closer and Steve can finally feel the other man’s still clothed erection against the back of his thigh.

“I didn’t hear y—”

Steve gets it right then and does what any desperate man would do. “Tony, please. I’m begging you.”

“Mmmmm… the magic words,” Tony practically purrs, clearly delighted while he removes his finger.  And then, accompanying the click of a top opening of what Steve assumes is lube, he says, “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“ _Finally_ ,” he says, loud enough so that Tony hears him. He gets a chuckle and the pressure of two lubed fingers at his entrance.

Tony has always been skilled at the art of prep. Steve doesn’t have a lot to compare it to, but he’s absolutely sure that Tony has some sort of sixth sense in regard to how many fingers to use, how to use them, and when to add more. That means he’s more focused on how his own sweat on the glossy table is making it hard to keep holding his body up. Every time he tries and adjusts himself, he slides a little one way or the other, and as he gets lost the way Tony’s fingers move inside of him, his slips down a little more, and then tries hard to find purchase.

It’s not helping any that Tony’s now removing his four (when did that happen?) fingers and lining himself up. Steve slowly exhales as Tony enters and tries to be quiet enough that he can hear the sound Tony makes when he bottoms out.

He never could get enough of that.

They stay like that just long enough that Steve can feel the way Tony’s pubic hair is irritating his raw skin. He tries hard to focus on the sensation and relax, a task that is made extra difficult given how much effort he’s using to keep his balance. His hard cock is slick against the table due to sweat and precome, and it moves back and forth when Tony begins to make small, exploratory thrusts.

Tony is using his hips to gain leverage and is pulling Steve inasmuch as he’s pushing against him. Steve’s moaning, but it’s cut off with every thrust, approximating something like, “uh, uhh, uh, uhhhh.”  The rhythm is a little off, or it is until Tony softly pushes Steve’s lower back down so that he’s more in a crouch. This position must make it easier for Tony to fuck him because now he’s going faster, harder. Perhaps it’s due to their different heights, but Steve doesn’t really care right now. It burns Steve’s thighs to stay like this, but he’s strong and it feels so good he wouldn’t even think of adjusting unless the alternative was to fall on his knees.

“Yes, god, yes, just like that, Steve,” Tony says, his voice worshipful even though Steve isn’t doing anything but focusing on how the edge of the table is pushing into his thighs. How every slap of Tony’s hips against his ass makes the pleasure flare up and shoot straight to his cock. He _needs_ friction against it, but there’s none to found. “Oh fuck,” Tony is whispering, on repeat, and Steve can tell he’s getting closer. It’s overwhelming, but good overwhelming, and on top of everything he feels a strong sense of satisfaction that Tony seems to be enjoying himself as much as he is.

“So, so good,” Steve says to himself, because he’s sick of just having to just think it. He isn’t sure if Tony hears him, but either way that’s when Tony leans forward so that his chest is flush with Steve’s back. He wraps a strong arm around him and holds Steve in an awkward backwards hug. The momentum or just exhaustion leads Steve to tip his head back so that it rests on Tony shoulder and Tony twists himself so he can kiss Steve’s neck, never letting up on the way he’s driving into Steve. All the while, the arm not holding him upright is moving downward until Tony’s hand is wrapped around his cock. Tony had always been a good multi-tasker. “Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, _please_.”

Tony moves faster with that, and Steve knows it isn’t going to be long, for either of them. “Steve,” Tony grunts, and then his thrusts become both more powerful and erratic until they stop with a woosh of air as he comes. It’s only moments later that Steve follows over the cliff as his body lights up and goes limp.

After a few seconds like that, he straightens up. “Thank you,” Steve whispers after he has the composure to say anything.

“I promise you, I’m not lying when I say it was a real chore for me,” Tony responds and even though his voice sounds too tired to put in the effort, Steve knows he’s being sarcastic. “When do you have to leave?”

Steve sighs, reality filtering in through the pleasant haze he’s been enjoying. His bike is hidden three or so miles away in the woods, and he won’t be able to sprint there with all the underbrush he’d be encountering. So, if he wants to make it on the road before sunrise with some buffer time, he really should be leaving the compound around five am. That couldn’t be too long from now and for a few moments he thinks about how that buffer time isn’t really needed and maybe he really could do the run at a sprint. Then he sees the amended Accords, still on the other side of the table and knows all of Tony’s hard work would be thrown away if he got caught.

Steve hangs his head. He hadn’t promised more than to do his best and try to make this work, but there’s no way he isn’t going to do everything in his power to live up to that promise. Even if Tony’s warm body against him feels better than anything has in years. “Five ten,” he says, finally responding and deciding to split the difference.

“Good. Then I can draw up a bath for you, maybe do something to alleviate the soreness,” and he lightly caresses Steve’s ass in case Steve isn’t sure what he’d meant.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s okay.” Steve means it. He can handle a little pain, especially if it comes with such nice memories.

“Steve, it’s a _thing_.”

“I’m sure it’s a thing. I’m just telling you it isn’t a thing I need _right now_ ,” Steve argues. He turns around so that he can face Tony head-on. His suit is ruined with sweat and Steve wonders if Tony will get it clean or just throw it away. In an attempt to change the conversation, he adds, “You hungry? I’m hungry. Let me clean myself up, and I’ll make you something.”

Tony glares at him. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast, but that doesn’t mean you’re getting away with this.”

“Tony, I don’t need you to wait on me.” And he really doesn’t. Maybe if they had gone longer or harder, he’d feel differently. “All I want to do right now is make you some eggs.”

“Eggs sound good.” He narrows his eyes. “But don’t think I am going to forget this. Next time, I’m treating you real good,” Tony says, and he doesn’t pause when he says _next time_. Doesn’t say anything about the uncertainty and the confusion and the deep, deep need hidden in that phrase.

Steve hears it anyway, and his heart clenches. “Of course, next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments and kudos. Who doesn't? 
> 
> And I'm generally pretty cool with criticism, as long as you're nice about it.


End file.
